Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 eBook

Here were two happy days to both. Why cannot
I make every day equally happy? It looks as
if it were in my power to do so. Strange, I should
thus delight in teasing a woman I so dearly love!
I must, I doubt, have something in my temper like
Miss Howe, who loves to plague the man who puts himself
in her power.—­But I could not do thus by
such an angel as this, did I not believe that, after
her probation time shall be expired, and if she be
not to be brought to cohabitation, (my darling view,)
I shall reward her as she wishes.

Saturday is half over. We are equally happy—­preparing
for the play. Polly has offered her company,
and is accepted. I have directed her where to
weep: and this not only to show her humanity,
[a weeping eye indicates a gentle heart,] but to have
a pretence to hide her face with a fan or handkerchief.—­Yet
Polly is far from being every man’s girl; and
we shall sit in the gallery green-box.

The woes of others, so well represented as those of
Belvidera particularly will be, must, I hope, unlock
and open my charmer’s heart. Whenever I
have been able to prevail upon a girl to permit me
to attend her to a play, I have thought myself sure
of her. The female heart (all gentleness and
harmony by nature) expands, and forgets its forms,
when its attention is carried out of itself at an
agreeable or affecting entertainment—­music,
and perhaps a collation afterwards, co-operating.

Indeed, I have no hope of such an effect here; but
I have more than one end to answer by getting her
to a play. To name but one.—­Dorcas
has a master-key, as I have told thee.—­But
it were worth while to carry her to the play of Venice
Preserved, were it but to show her, that there have
been, and may be, much deeper distresses than she can
possibly know.

Thus exceedingly happy are we at present. I
hope we shall not find any of Nat. Lee’s
left-handed gods at work, to dash our bowl of joy with
wormwood.

R. Lovelace.

LETTER XLI

MissClarissaHarlowe, tomissHoweFriday, may 19.

I would not, if I could help it, be so continually
brooding over the dark and gloomy face of my condition
[all nature, you know, my dear, and every thing in
it, has a bright and a gloomy side] as to be thought
unable to enjoy a more hopeful prospect. And
this, not only for my own sake, but for yours, who
take such generous concern in all that befalls me.

Let me tell you then, my dear, that I have known four-and-twenty
hours together not unhappy ones, my situation considered.

[She then gives the particulars of the conversation
which she had
overheard between Mr. Lovelace,
Mrs. Sinclair, and Miss Martin; but
accounts more minutely than he had
done for the opportunity she had of
overhearing it, unknown to them.